How to Kill Mustang's Gang in Thirty Seconds
by xCrimsonxBlackxBloodx
Summary: WARNING: Chances are, your favourite military character WILL die. You have been warned, but, don't lie, you know you wanna read it anyway.


**Disclaimer:**** Fortunately, I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. If I did, it probably would have lasted about ten pages before I decided that it would be a great idea for everyone to die a horrible, terrible death.**

**Let's observe, shall we?**

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How to Kill Mustang's Gang in Thirty Seconds

(Or rather, thirty seconds if you can speed read)

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Once upon a time, a long time ago – about a hundred years ago, to be exact – in the fictional city of Central in the fictional country of Amestris, there are two brothers: Edward and Alphonse Elric. Now, because they were more stupid when they were younger than they are now, they lost various parts of their anatomy.

The exact parts will remain unmentioned, but that's beside the point.

Anyway, they worked and worked and worked and thought they were ready to get their various anatomical parts back because they thought that they had un-stupified themselves. Unfortunately, they hadn't, and Edward died a terrible, horrible gruesome death via dismemberment by Gate Baby. But, instead of not being stupid and actually getting a life and proving to the world that, even though he's a bodiless freak he can still live and do stuff, Alphonse decided to freak out and go into a frenzy.

He frenzied, yelling and screaming and making people think he had been bitten by a rabid platypus the whole while, all the way to Colonel Mustang's office, where he decided that, because he was the only Elric and unable without a body to keep the Elric line going, he was going to be smart for once and kill himself.

Then he ran into the problem of, exactly how to you 'kill' a walking suit of armour? After all, it's not technically alive.

Suddenly, it came to him – the only other smart idea he ever had before he died. He quickly grabbed Black Hayate where he was sleeping beside Hawkeye's desk, made the little black and white yapper drink lots and _lots_ of water, took off his helmet and had the dog pee on his blood seal. The thing washed away in a flood of yellow… liquid, and the now even more worthless hunk of steel fell to the ground with a clatter.

This clatter of noise, being very loud, brought the attention of the various people who were actually supposed to be in the empty office, and they all ran to see how many cats Alphonse had managed to put in his armour this time (just for the record, 1,942 cats were posthumously extracted from inside the suit). Armstrong, being freakishly tall and who's legs were longer than Edward's entire body, managed to get there first. And, when he saw the cat-infested, but not soul-infested suit of armour hanging out on the plush carpeting of the Flame Colonel's office, he burst into very sparkly tears and started yelling at the top of his lungs – after all, he would be the only remaining freakishly tall person that we see on a regular basis, and that's just sad.

"OH, ALHPONSE ELRIC!" He screamed out, causing some poor little Xingese village to be the subject of an earthquake. "WHAT A TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE SIGHT!! OH, THE HORROR THAT MUST HAVE MADE YOU PERFORM SUCH A HEINOUS ACT! WHAT AM I TO DO WITHOUT YOUR PRESENCE, NEARLY AS TALL AND WONDERFUL AS MY OWN…"

He went on like this for a while, until he realized that, you know what? There really was nothing that he could do without Alphonse's presence also occasionally around Central Command.

So he decided that it's be a great idea to off himself. However, of course, being Armstrong, he had to do it in a great an glorious, awe inspiring way.

So he went over to Mustang's office, where a phone was innocently resting, and clubbed himself with it, using the _phone clubbing technique that has been passed down the Armstrong family line for GENERATIONS!_

Armstrong has just fallen to the ground, a lump on his oversized forehead, but in a heroic, muscle-y pose nonetheless, when Fuery and Breda came in, wondering what was taking the Major so long to figure out how many cats were in Alphonse's armour. They were shocked by what they say – so say the least.

"I'm shocked by what I see!!" Breda exclaimed, while the author's rolled her eyes at the fictional character's stupidity.

"To say the least," Fuery added.

Then they hurried up and decided to kill themselves, because they were annoying the author.

It was Fuery who realized that, if Armstrong was dead, then he wouldn't be able to get set up with one of Armstrong's many sisters, like the man had promised. And, if he couldn't get set up with a hot chick and obviously couldn't score one on his own… Then he'd be doomed to be threatened with gay-dom by yaoi loving fangirls for the rest of his military career, which, no matter how much he liked Havoc as a friend, was a slightly disturbing thought.

With this idea in his mind, he quickly rushed over to his own desk, covered with various electrical contraptions. He wired a few things together, grabbed a battery, a magnet, an anvil, a pulley and a ACME box, flipped an 'on' switch before Breda realized what he was doing, and promptly twitched until his neural pathways overloaded and he dropped to the ground, smoking slightly.

Then he drifted down to hell to hang out with Alphonse and Armstrong, because that's where you go when you kill yourself.

Breda on the other hand, simply stared at the fizzling corpse of the vertically challenged Sergeant Master (nearly as much so as Edward). Then it dawned on his that Armstrong was freakishly tall, Fuery was freakishly four eyed, and he was freakishly… red haired, but, if Armstrong and Fuery were dead, then he'd be the only freak left.

"Oh! Come _on_, guys!" He shouted to the ceiling, even though he was shouting the wrong direction because Hell is _down_ and not _up_. "What're you trying to do to me here?!"

That done, he waddled over to Fuery's desk, pushing the still sizzling, somewhat sparking corpse aside to get to the contraption that had been made. He looked at it for a little while, then realized that he had no idea how to used the damned thing, anyway, so he shrugged, grabbed a paper clip and shoved the thing into an electrical socket.

He had just finished seizing like an epileptic monkey when Hawkeye burst in the room, gun at the ready, wondering just what the hell was taking everyone so long? Where noticed the growing pile of dead bodies and was about the inconspicuously close the door and leave when a final jerk of Breda's hand brought her attention to him. With a horrified, melodramatic gasp, she hurried across the room – kicking Fuery aside in the process – and fell to her knees beside the extremely, overly… red haired man.

"Oh! Breda! Oh Heymans! Oh, my love! The star of my night; the sunshine in my day!" She cried out, sounding like Armstrong trying to write a love ballade. "It was never that man-whore that I truly cared about, but you! Whatever shall I do now, without your luminous presence in my dark, dreary days…"

She gave up trying to sound poetic and opted instead for sobbing hysterically. But she quickly came to realize that there was little she could do without Heymans' luminous presence around her, and, in her misery, buried her face in his blubber. Within minutes, she was effectively dead, having suffocated herself.

And the Havoc walked in and saw the ever growing pile of his comrades, all dead and laying in various positions on the ground. He looked at Hawkeye and Breda, moved the First Lieutenants hand so that it covered Breda's… red hair, and nodded, happy with this little change, then turned around and counted all the dead bodies. It took a little time, but he came to the comprehension that, out of everyone who worked directly under Mustang, he was the only one still alive.

And there was no way that he would put up with that man-whore on his own.

Thinking… Well, thinking as quickly as he could (which really isn't all that fast), he grabbed Black Hayate's leash, threw it around the light fixture on the ceiling, grabbed a chair to stand on, tied the leash around his neck and kicked the chair away. However, as he hung out – pun intended – the lighter that one of this many ex-girlfriends gave him slipped from his pocket and bumped against his boot, somehow hitting the igniter and switching it on, catching fire on the man's shoelace. He had time for one agonizing, girly shriek before the flames engulfed him, turning him into the world's biggest pork roast.

The last bit of flame had just extinguished when Roy "The Lazy Bastard" Mustang walked in, yawning because he had just woken up from a nap. He looked over everyone in the room (his heart twinged a little when he saw Hawkeye's hand stretched over Breda's… red hair), and let out an exhausted sigh.

"Well, there's no way in hell that I'm going to be able to get a promotion any time soon without anyone to piggy back me to glory and fame…" He scratched the bad of his head, wondering if he would somehow be able to use alchemy to clean up this whole mess, and, hopefully, at least avoid half of the problem that would hold him back. Karma really was a bitch, he thought; Edward could've cleaned all this for him if he hadn't sabotaged the little brats transmu – I mean…

"Well," he said to himself, proving once and for all that isolation really does make you talk to yourself a lot. "There's nothing for it…"

He pulled out his fire-gloves and glanced around the room, then shoved the things really, really far down his throat. If Edward had been there, he would have made a snide comment about the man's lack of a gag reflex.

Unfortunately, because the Homunculi have plans for Mustang – they had plans for the Elric's, too, but those two little bastards are really sneaky sometimes – so Envy burst in at the last minute to, cursing and grimacing, pull the spitty gloves out of Mustang's mouth, knock him out, and bring him to the Evil Underground Hide-out to keep an eye on him so that he wouldn't try to do something like that again. They had lost two useful pawns, and Father would get really mad if they lost a third.

Fortunately, Mustang is a man-whore, so all they had to do was have Lust guard him to keep him busy.

And then Lust got pissed off and killed him.

The End

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There. They're all dead.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: (to be read very quickly)

Please understand that I had no intentions of insulting any tall people, short people, fat people, skinny people, two eyed, four eyed or three eyed people, red (or any other haired) people, horses, cats, monkeys, platypuses or three year olds in the making of this story. It is formed simply for amusement's sake – mine. Should you have any questions or concerns, please stay on the line and an operator will hang up on you.

Or just leave a review.

xCxBxBx


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